Dishes come

and dishes go

too many dishes

mar the scene

 

we pile them high

we pile them low

we stack in rows

in the machine

 

and when we think

we're finally done

another dish

someone will bring

 

re-stacked and packed

no end it seems

paper plates appeal

far less to clean

 

with paper plates

good for one meal

there's nothing left

to which grub clings

 

and nothing more

to put away

our dishplay done

with joy we sing.